Stuck In The Middle
by SpyKid18
Summary: Blair takes it upon herself to take care of injured Chuck. With Dorota in tow. Post-finale. CHAIR
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this is an idea I got last night after writing Play Pretend and it would not leave my mind. So, I wrote it. And this one will be a longer, multi-chapter story :-) I hope you like it!**

The Decision

She let herself cry once. It was on the way to Prague, the sound of the aircraft so loud that only she could hear her tears. She let herself cry for the duration of the ride and then pulled out her compact, fixed her eye-make up and approached him with dry eyes. He looked so small in the hospital bed with all his tubes and monitors.

"He's lucky," the doctor told her. "The bullet just missed his heart."

"That's because he doesn't have one," she sniped.

That wasn't true, though. She remembered the way he looked at her when he found her at his apartment. His eyes were bright and she swore she could see his heart swell. And then at the hospital. She could hear his heart break. Or perhaps it was her own she was hearing.

Chuck was awake and seemed to pale even further when he saw her. She sat next to his bed and asked in a level voice, "How are you feeling?"

"I don't feel," he answered. "Not anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous." She replied, reverting to her defense of sarcasm. The truth was that the sight of him wrapped in bandages made her want to scream until her voice went hoarse. "You were shot, Chuck. Even _you_ would feel that."

"Blair," he murmured softly. She noticed his hand move slightly and then his face contorted with pain. Despite herself she leaned forward and laid a hand on his forearm.

"Do you need the doctor?"

She began to rise from her seat but he stopped her. "No. Stay, please."

His face was so open then, honest and _needing_.He looked too much like the old Chuck, the one who had held her hand and kissed her cheek. She rose slowly from the seat and told him, "I should be going. I just wanted to see how you were."

As she turned she heard him say, "I love you, Blair."

She faced him again and in a voice entirely devoid of emotion said, "I know. Goodbye, Chuck."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

She didn't know how she found herself at The Empire with Dorota next to her, the familiar but seldom used key card in her hand. It had all started when she talked to Serena the past week. Blair had casually inquired as to how Chuck was doing and Serena's lips pressed into a tight frown when she told her, "He is giving my mom a hell of a time. He refuses to stay with us."

Blair had looked at her with interest. "He's at The Empire?"

Serena nodded. "He hired some nurse or something."

Blair snorted and said, "Figures, it is Chuck after all."

Serena sensed Blair's ever present defense mechanism and told her, "Even if it were that, Blair, he can hardly move."

"Moot point."

"Anyway, my mom is sick with worry. Chuck is like a son to her and she is constantly worrying over if he is taking his medicine, if he is changing his bandages often enough."

"I'm sure Chuck's nurse can take care of it all."

She wasn't sure, though, and that is how she ended up with Dorota at his room. She swiped the key past the sensor and a soft green light preceded her entrance. She walked in and inhaled sharply when she found a middle aged man standing in the kitchen.

"Who are you?" She asked immediately.

"I'm Mr. Bass' caretaker. And who may I ask are you?"

"I'm Blair Waldorf. You're…you're the caretaker?"

The man nodded.

"Oh, well, you will not be needed anymore," Blair told him. She took off her coat and strode past him to put it on the couch.

"Excuse me?"

"Chuck have new caretakers," Dorota filled in, standing up straight.

"Mr. Bass is in a tenuous condition right now," the caretaker said slowly. "He needs a licensed medical practitioner and while I mean no disrespect, neither of you seem qualified."

Dorota sucked her cheeks in irritably and told him, "I take care of Ms. Blair for years and she turn out good. I can take care of Mr. Chuck."

"Mr. _Bass_ hired me and I intend on doing my job," the caretaker replied levelly.

Blair was feeling increasingly nervous being back at the hotel and her nerves only sharpened her bite. She turned on the caretaker and told him in a voice that could cut metal, "Look, I'm sure you have been taking fine care of Mr. Bass but your services are not needed anymore. Dorota is more than qualified to take care of Mr. Bass. _We_ are more than qualified to take care of him."

"He needs medical attention," the caretaker told her stubbornly.

"Which is why I arranged for his doctor to come here and pay him a visit daily." She smiled sweetly at his silence. "I may be young but I am not dense. Now, thank you for all your help up to now. Take your time gathering your things."

He bristled at her condescending tone but gave her an affirming nod, nonetheless. He walked over to the guest room and she could hear the shuffle of a bag and then clothes.

"Mr. Chuck is in room," Dorota said softly, pointing to his bedroom. Blair nodded and then forced her legs to take her to him. Nerves pulled taught within her and she felt as if she would crack with tension as she pushed the door open. There were no tubes this time, which made him look exponentially better. His eyes focused on her.

"I thought I heard you," he said.

"I brought Dorota."

"Why are you here?"

She stood at the foot of his bed and felt herself fidget. "Serena said you wouldn't stay at Lilly's."

"I like my home."

"Well, I figured it would make Lilly feel better to have someone she knows taking care of you. And everyone knows Dorota is more than capable. The doctor will make daily visits, of course."

"You brought me Dorota?"

"It was her idea," she said but both of them knew it was a lie. "We'll be staying in the guest room, if you don't mind."

"We?"

"You know Dorota can't be separated from me," she said with a soft grin.

He still seemed in disbelief and murmured, "Of course not."

She nodded. "Alright, well, I will just go and unpack now. If you need anything, just, call for one of us."

She turned to leave but he stopped her. "Blair, wait."

"Yes?"

"I will make it up to you. Somehow, I will make it all up to you."

She felt her stomach go into knots and she set him with a level gaze as she replied, "This doesn't mean I forgive you, Chuck. I don't. This is for Lilly. She's been through enough in the past few months. This is for her, not you."

She walked out without another word. Despite her intention to unpack she went to the sitting room and settled on the couch. She let her body relax into the cushion and casually turned her head against the upholstery. It smelled like him. Although every fiber in her body still rebelled against him she couldn't deny that it felt good to be back in the room. It was comforting to be surrounded by what she had grown so accustomed to.

She was home.

**A/N: Please leave comments if you would like to see this expanded. Just so you know, I plan on this being around 5-6 chapters total. Also, feel free to leave comments about the finale and such. I love reading all of them and responding with my own thoughts :-) Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow- your response to this was just overwhelming! Thank you for all your wonderful feedback! A couple of you mentioned Dorota's child and I will admit that I was not thinking of the little one when I wrote this. So..to make this as realistic as possible (I do not want it to be AU) it will only be Blair staying with Chuck. Dorota will be living with her family but she will still come for frequent visits and such. So don't worry-Dorota will still have a large presence in this :-) I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

The First Day

"I still don't understand why you are doing this," Eleanor said, standing at the doorway to her daughter's room as Blair gathered a few last items and pushed them into her Louis Vuitton carrier.

"Chuck needs someone to take care of him," Blair replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"Yes," Eleanor said, "that is why he had a caretaker."

"Young love," Cyrus crooned from behind Eleanor, placing an arm around her waist. "There's no understanding it, dear."

"From what I heard regarding that young Humphrey girl, Blair should be having nothing to do with Chuck Bass," Eleanor said.

"And I'm not," Blair told her, zipping her bag shut. "Not in that way."

She walked forward and pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek. "My mom is right, Cyrus. This has nothing to do with young love. Chuck and I are still not a couple. I'm doing this for Lily. She has done so much for me over the years and I know that it is killing her that Chuck will not stay with them. It will make her feel better to know that one of us is with her."

"I still don't like the idea of you being alone with that boy, though." Eleanor said, following Blair as she moved to the kitchen.

"I did it before, mother."

"Yes, but that was before dear. Can't Dorota accompany you?"

Blair sighed. Her mother would never understand. "No, she just had a baby, mom. And it's not like he can do anything, anyway. He was _shot._ He's not exactly up and moving."

"Just let them be," Cyrus said. Blair looked at him for a moment and he gave her a wink that made her head hurt. She shook her brown locks to herself and picked her purse up off of the counter. Cyrus was wrong. This had nothing to do with young love and everything to do with helping Lily. What Chuck had done made whatever they had between them beyond repair. She was doing this for Lily.

"Well, I have just about everything. I will talk to you two soon."

Eleanor nodded silently while Cyrus cheerily said, "Tell Chuck that I say hello!"

After promising to do so, Blair left and took the familiar route to The Empire Hotel. The doorman recognized her and smiled grandly as he opened the door.

"It is nice to have you back, Ms. Waldorf," he said in greeting.

Something stirred in the pit of her stomach at his words, a feeling eerily similar to pleasure, and she gave him a contained smile. "Thank you."

"How is Mr. Bass doing?"

She didn't care much to chat with the doorman and curtly told him, "He is doing just fine."

Catching her tone the doorman nodded in deference and said, "That is good to hear. Enjoy the rest of your day."

Blair took the elevator up to Chuck's penthouse and walked in. She heard the television on and found Vanya sitting with little Anastasia, watching some soap opera. She looked at them strangely and set her bag down on the couch.

"Hello, Ms. Blair," Vanya said, offering her a warm smile.

"Hello."

"Oh, Ms. Blair, you are back!" Dorota exclaimed, walking out of Chuck's bedroom. "The doctor just left. He gave Mr. Chuck medication."

"Good." She pulled off her coat and then gingerly asked, "Dorota, why is your husband watching soap operas?"

"He learned English from them," Dorota told her.

With a grin Vanya added, "They hooked me in."

"Sucked me in," Blair corrected. Vanya nodded slowly while Blair silently questioned why she was helping out Vanya's English. She decided this was a good time to see how Chuck was and silently excused herself from the room.

Chuck looked better than when she had last seen him. He was sitting up a bit more in the bed and his eyes brightened as always when he saw her. She sat down next to him and asked, "What did the doctor say?"

"I'm going to live," he said dryly. "Did I hear Dorota say that her husband learned English from soap operas?"

"Yes," Blair answered curtly, wanting to know exactly what the doctor said. "But-"

"I wonder what subpar daytime soap it was."

"I don't know. I-"

"Preferably an ABC one. My dad's myriad of wives always enjoyed daytime television and the ABC ones were always the best. They had the most intricate storylines while still being believable."

"I don't know what one," she snapped. "Now, what did your doctor say?"

He smirked and drawled, "I'm guessing you were not a daytime television girl, were you?"

"Chuck," she said in warning.

"Fine," he sighed. "He said that things are healing at an appropriate rate."

"How do you feel?"

"Dazed," he said, drawing the word out. "Thanks to the medication."

"Well, that's expected." Unable to stop herself she added, "And besides, it shouldn't be a feeling you are unaccustomed to."

His eyes met hers and he made an attempt to shrug. "I can't argue with someone who is correct."

She hated how even in bandages, confined to a bed, Chuck was still able to get the best of her. His smart comment made her blood boil and she wanted to pick a fight, bring up everything that she had let fester beneath her tongue, but she pushed it back. He had just been shot. He was confined to a bed, 24 hours a day and not even able to derive some pleasure from the location (although the last part secretly thrilled her). She would leave the verbal beating for later. She pulled herself from the seat and asked, "Do you need anything?"

"A neat scotch," he answered.

She gave him a look and said, "I'll be back with some water."

She walked out to the kitchen and behind her heard Dorota scold Vanya in Polish and then the telltale grabbing of the remote, the click of the channel changing. It seemed Vanya's soap opera turned inappropriate for its unassuming young viewer. She brought the water to Chuck, and went to hand it to him. She stopped as she realized that Chuck would be unable to lift the cup all the way to his mouth. It seemed the first hurdle as caretaker was in place.

"You could have kept Carl here," Chuck reminded her.

"Who is Carl?"

"The caretaker that you fired."

"Oh."

She sighed and raised the cup to his lips. He leaned his head forward and she gently tilted the cup toward him. She must have tilted it a bit too much because he made a choking noise and water dripped down his chin.

"Oh," she breathed out, pulling the cup back. "I'm sorry."

"I feel like a small kid," he said, laughing throatily. "Um, would you mind?"

He lifted his chin a bit and she blushed when she understood what he was asking. For a minute she considered refusing, a small voice in the back of her head telling her it was another one of his ruses to force intimacy. It was different now, though. Chuck was robbed of his swagger by a gun which had left him bed ridden and now, she realized, entirely at her mercy. She would wipe his chin.

It was hardly a big deal, anyway, wiping off his chin. They had done things much more intimate but the thought of brushing her fingers against his skin, beneath the pucker of his lower lip, made it seem _very_ intimate.

"Sure," she said, giving him an unsure pull of her lips. She reached forward tentatively and brushed the skin under his lips. She wiped his chin, brushing under with the tip of her index finger to grab any stray water. He shivered beneath her touch.

"Thank you," he said once she was finished.

She nodded and rose shakily from the seat. She walked out of the room and sat herself beside Vanya. The television was back to the soap opera and all watched in silence. Blair forced herself to watch the action, follow it with an almost obsessive attention to detail. With the feel of Chuck's skin still on her fingertips, she needed to focus on something else. Anything else.

**A/N: I would love to hear your thoughts on this! And you can look forward to some cameos by the other cast members next chapter :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, thank you for all the feedback! Here is the newest chapter :-)**

Moves and Elephant Ears

It had been a week and Chuck and Blair had settled into their unusual, domestic routine. She woke him up at nine every morning and fed him with either a waffle or toast with marmalade. She was glad he liked it because secretly it was the only thing she knew how to make in the kitchen. A toaster she could handle but the stove was a completely different story. Visitors came throughout the midmorning and Dr. Rubenstein arrived promptly at eleven. Blair always left the room while he looked at Chuck. It bothered her to think of Chuck being so helpless with a doctor looming over him. Chuck had always seemed above everything, even his own body. She usually sat on the couch and flipped nervously through a magazine while Dr. Rubenstein checked Chuck's recovery. She could never tell you what she read. Dorota would show up when Dr. Rubenstein left, nearly to the minute, and she would heat up the food she had prepared at home for Chuck. He had complained the first time Dorota brought his Tupperware lunch.

"Just call Lawry's," he had complained. "Get me a nice steak or something. I don't trust that food."

Dorota had effectively silenced him, though, by sticking a spoonful of goulash in his mouth. Her food turned out to be surprisingly tasty and he didn't say another word.

"Where did she learn to cook like that?" Chuck asked, looking almost longingly at the now empty dish.

"Probably from her mother," Blair answered, placing the dish on his nightstand. "That's where most people learn how to cook."

"Learn any pointers from Eleanor?" He drawled.

She stood up and answered, "Yes, how to cater."

"How fitting," he called after her as she brought the dish to the sink. She washed it quickly and then returned to his bedroom. He was silent, which was never a good thing, and she grudgingly asked, "What is it?"

"I want you to help me with something."

"No," she answered immediately.

"What?"

"It is either going to be something disgusting or something you should not do in your state."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know you," she pointed out.

"Maybe I just want a glass of water."

"You just had one."

"Or my phone."

"Do you really need your phone?" She asked.

"No, but I-"

"My job is to help you recover," Blair began, getting on her metaphorical soap box regarding his health. "Therefore, I need to keep you from doing the stupid things you would do if you were on your own or only monitored by that Carl guy."

"Hey, be nice to Carl," Chuck retorted. "At least he wasn't a Nazi like you."

Blair gasped. "Excuse me?"

Chuck rolled his eyes at her reaction and told her, "You are a little tight on the reins."

"Well, you aren't exactly easy to control," she countered.

"Fine," he answered in clipped tones. "I'll just do it myself."

"Do what?" She asked worriedly.

"I," he started to say, leaning forward in bed. "Am going to get myself to the living room. Because I am bored."

She watched in horror as he tried to swing his legs off of the bed. Without thinking she reached forward impulsively and threaded her arm under his, taking on his weight. She helped him stand and huffed, "You are ridiculous."

"No, I'm tired of staring at my walls."

She pursed her lips into a frown and mustered all the strength she could find to stagger herself and Chuck into the living room. She angrily thought that he was a lot heavier than he looked.

"I hate you," she mumbled, stumbling a bit as they rounded a corner. "I came here to take care of you and now I'm an accomplice to your concentrated efforts to ruin your recovery."

"My recovery will be just fine," he replied tensely, gritting his teeth as a sharp pain cut into his side. Blair felt the tension in his body and looked at him quickly, all contempt seeping from her like air from a balloon. "Chuck?"

"I'm fine," he said through clenched teeth. "Just get me to the couch."

She nodded and used the last bit of her strength to drag them over to the couch and then carefully get him seated. That last part was harder than it sounded and she struggled to set him down carefully and not just plop him on the cushion. Once he was safely seated she collapsed next to him, breathing heavily.

"You are sleeping here," she told him, unceremoniously dragging a rather large lock of hair away from her face.

"Deal," he answered. "Can I have the remote?"

She leaned forward and grabbed it from the coffee table and then handed it to him. He clicked on the television and went to the On Demand screen. He clicked through a few and smirked when he caught the titles of a couple decidedly Blair Waldorf movies.

"You've already taken over my On Demand?" He asked with a grin.

"You fall asleep early," she retorted.

Chuck found himself unreasonably taking offense to this and told her, "Just for the record, that is because of my medication."

"No, you always fell asleep early," she told him. "We would be talking in bed and before I knew it I would look over and you would be fast asleep." She smiled at the memory but her lips turned down as she remembered the shambles that their relationship had become. How the light had turned so dark.

"Anyway," she said, her voice too bright, "I need something to do here at night. Deal with it, Bass."

"Fine, but I won't watch them with you."

She retorted, "I wouldn't even think of asking."

He didn't respond and then she felt the unnerving sensation of his eyes on her. He was the only person who she could actually _feel_ watching her. And it wasn't some abstract feeling like when you can sense someone's eyes on you at a party or at a store. This was a concrete feeling, as if she could trace the exact path of his eyes to her body, her face. She forced herself not to return the gaze.

"Fine," he said. "I'll watch one of your movies."

"We don't have to," she said. "It's your television, put on what you want."

He frowned and she almost felt bad for ruining what she was sure was his way of reaching out. She didn't care, though. He had lost his ability to reach out to her a long time ago. She looked down at her nails and examined her cuticles as Chuck picked a movie. She heard the remote hit the cushion beside her but her eyes did not move to the screen until she heard the opening notes of the last movie she ever thought Chuck Bass would pick.

"Chuck, this movie is over three hours long."

"I know," he answered, his voice oddly in tune with _Gone With The Wind's_ "Main Theme". "I also know that it is one of your favorites; after _Breakfast at Tiffany's_, of course,and_ Funny Face_."

In a voice so soft it was nearly a whisper she said, "You remembered."

"Of course I did."

Feeling that she reacted much to strongly toward someone remembering movies (how hard is it?) she said, "Well, it's not too difficult to remember a few film titles. Even Nate could have guessed those and he never listened to me."

"I remember a lot more," he told her, his eyes on her. She felt her skin prickle and she thought that this was one of the greatest movies ever made and that his eyes should really be on the screen and not her face. In fact, _her_ eyes should be on the screen and not his face but she was having an awful hard time looking away from the eyes that she had once loved to a fault and when someone knocked on the door, making both of them jump, she was never so happy for an interruption.

"Excuse me," she said hurriedly, scrambling from her seat to the door. Her entire body felt taut with nerves and she was sure her eyes were doing that crazed look that she got whenever anything involved that Mother Chucker. She opened the door and Nate stood there with the warm smile that used to always make her chest constrict. Now it did the same but purely for the reason that he was interrupting whatever had been happening on that couch.

"Hi Nate."

"Hey, Blair, I-" he stopped when he saw Chuck on the couch and said, "How did Chuck get there?"

"I walked, Nathaniel," Chuck drawled from the couch. "I know, shocking."

"Should you really be moving, man?"

Blair rolled her eyes at Chuck's intentional exclusion of her from the story and said, "I helped him, Nate. And he is heavier than he looks."

"Hey, I resent that."

"All that liquor has to go somewhere," Nate added reasonably.

"Are you here to join in on the movie fun or to insult me?"

"I came to check on you."

Chuck raised his eyebrows questioningly and said, "Oh, really?"

"Yes, to make sure you haven't killed each other."

"We get along just fine," Blair said, reclaiming her seat beside Chuck.

Chuck somewhat bitterly added, "Like a happy family. She already nags like a wife."

His eyes darkened after that statement and Blair assumed it was because of just how unlike a happy family they were. To be honest, it was a struggle every minute to be with him. She wanted to be angry with him over what happened with Jenny but she also could not deny the fact that he had thought they were over. She hadn't shown up on time and he had given up on them. She'd been in his position before and she knew how much it hurt. She also knew what comfort a warm body could be. While she wouldn't choose Jenny Humphrey, she understood what was behind, well, Jenny Humphrey.

She saw Nate watching them, noticing the domesticated nature their relationship had taken and she could see the worry in his eyes. She knew both her and Chuck had a stake in what they were doing. Chuck was reassured by her presence and made to believe day after day that perhaps he could still have her. She was falling more and more in love with him. When it ended, disaster was spelled out for the both of them and she could see it in Nate's eyes.

"Oh," Nate said suddenly, as if he were pulled from some trance, "I also brought something for you."

"For me or Blair?" Chuck asked with a note of irony in his voice. "See, you need to be more clear because you've been known to dote on the both of us."

"For you," Nate clarified, shaking his head. "And I have never doted on you."

"That pot you used to get me was primo, Nathaniel."

Blair scoffed while Nate said, "This is not pot. But, it is some stuff from that one bakery you like."

"Is there an elephant ear in there?" Chuck asked. Blair wrinkled her nose and he said, "I know you don't like them, Waldorf. I was asking for myself because these pastries, believe it or not, are for me."

"Oh shut up," she sniped.

"Yes, there is an elephant ear," he said. His eyes lifted to Blair and he added, "I did ask for some cream puffs, too."

She smiled wide and mimicked to Chuck, "I think those cream puffs Chuck, believe it not, are for _me_."

Now it was his turn to frown at her.

"How are you feeling?" Nate asked, amused at their interaction but also a bit disturbed by it. They truly did act like an old married couple. He wondered if they noticed.

"The medication keeps me perpetually high. So, I am great Nathaniel."

"The doctor says he is healing at a steady rate," Blair filled in, slapping Chuck's leg gently. "And you are not high."

"How would you know? Last time I checked your bill is completely clean in that area."

Blair scowled and turned to Nate to ask, "Fine, Nate, tell me if he is high or not."

"He just seems hopped up on medication," Nate said carefully. "Which is how he should be. Better that than pain, right?"

Blair frowned and said, "I'm going to talk to his doctor about how much medication he should be taking."

"Well," Nate said, backing up toward the door. "I need to get going. I just wanted to check on you and bring you the pastries."

"Thank you, Nathaniel. I really do appreciate it."

Nate was touched by the sincerity in his friend's voice and nodded where words would not suffice. In a shaky voice he said goodbye to Blair and then left. Left alone, Blair looked at Chuck carefully and said, "Are you really high?"

He smiled slightly and said, "No, I was joking, Blair."

"Because, the medication is for pain. If you're just taking them to get a high-"

"Blair, it was a joke."

She didn't speak for a moment, waiting to see his bluff. As far as she could tell he wasn't lying. Contented for the moment, she said, "Alright."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Blair."

"Okay."

Softly he said, "I've hurt you enough."

Blair didn't think as she reached over and placed her hand over his. She didn't think as she thread her fingers through his or as she said, "You can stop beating yourself up, Chuck. I think getting shot was punishment enough."

"I hurt you."

"Yes," she answered. "You did."

He didn't say anything else and she removed her hand from his. She turned her attention back to the screen and noted with subdued interest that this was the scene where Rhett Butler first appeared. She always loved this scene and as if to voice her own thoughts Chuck said, "This is a good part."

"I thought you didn't like my movies."

"This one isn't too bad."

She blinked once.

Twice.

Three times and then she accepted the fact that, yes, they were actually making progress.

**A/N: Let me know what you think!**

** I also would like to recommend that you all go look at my newest story The Proposal. It is a CHAIR fic and I'm pretty excited about it, so...check it out :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Your feedback was wonderful! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on this :-) Here is the next chapter. It's a bit angstier than the others. Hope you enjoy it!**

It's Complicated

Chuck kept to his word and slept on the couch for the next week. Blair had been worried initially but he insisted that it was just as comfortable as his bed.

"And I have more to stare at than a blank wall," he said.

This made sense to her so she didn't argue. She also didn't bring up the fact that some of this "more to stare at" was herself. She could feel his eyes on her as she flitted about the apartment doing little jobs here and there. She didn't think her washing a dish could be that fascinating but she felt his eyes on her back the entire time.

"You're having a special visitor today," Blair said. "Dorota is coming-"

"That is not special," he told her. "Dorota is always here."

"Yes, I know that, but she is bringing her baby."

Chuck looked a bit affronted at this and she asked, "Do you have an issue with that, Bass?"

"As a matter of face, I do. Babies make me uncomfortable."

"She was here before," she pointed out.

"Yes, but I was in my bedroom."

"She can't do anything to you, you know. She's a baby."

"They still make me uncomfortable." He said. "They're just so dependent. You have to feed them, constantly keep watch to make sure they don't kill themselves."

Blair smirked. "Sounds like someone I know."

He caught the reference and said, "Hey, I feed myself now."

"Yes, you do."

Dr. Rubenstein had removed some of the bandages, at least the ones restricting his arms, so Chuck was able to feed himself. Blair was ecstatic at this because she thought feeding Chuck was far too intimate and made her need to get far too close to him. There were a lot of "far too"s that she was encountering with Chuck lately.

"Well, anyway, I just thought you should know who is coming to your room. They should be here soon."

"As will my lunch," he added heartily.

Blair smiled at the eagerness in his voice and said, "Don't get too accustomed to her cooking now because the minute that those bandages are removed it is back to your diet of gin and green olives."

The door opened and Dorota came in, a crying baby in her arms. She was muttering in Polish and had the look of a frazzled mother on her face.

"Ana, ssshhh," Dorota lamented, giving the back a little jostle in an attempt to calm her. She looked up at Blair and said, "Hello, Ms. Blair. I'm sorry 'bout Ana. She so fussy today and Dorota no idea how calm down."

"Me neither," Blair answered. "All I know about babies are how they are made."

Chuck smirked.

"Ms. Blair, you hold Ana while I make Chuck food?"

Blair grew white as a sheet. She hadn't told Chuck this but she wasn't entirely comfortable around babies, either. It had nothing to do with the dependence part, which Blair just thought revealed his fear of commitment. Blair was just terrified that she would drop them or do something wrong. Not only were they dependent but they were vulnerable. And breakable.

Dorota did not give her a choice in the matter, though. She plopped Ana into Blair's arms and then walked over into the kitchen. Blair looked at Chuck in absolute terror and quietly asked, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Hold the baby?"

"What if I drop her?"

Chuck looked at her oddly and answered, "Don't."

"Oh my god," she went over to the couch and carefully sat next to him, nearly tripping in the process. Now that she was seated, though, a hard floor not five feet from the baby's head, she felt much more calm. Chuck watched her with interest, noticing the way she rocked the baby instinctively. For once Blair was not aware of Chuck beside her. Instead she was looking down at the little bundle in her arms, suddenly understanding what all the fuss with babies was about.

"She's so small," Blair said.

Chuck reached toward the baby tentatively and took a sharp inhale when Ana grasped one of his fingers. Blair laughed gently, looking at Chuck with eyes as wide as his own. Blair looked at Ana again and studied her tiny fingers and tiny feet. Everything was just so tiny.

"Here is your food, Mr. Chuck," Dorota said, emerging from the kitchen. She handed it to him and then carefully scooped Ana from Blair's arms. Blair looked at mother and child and then realized that the moment Dorota put Ana in her arms she had stopped crying. She looked away uncomfortably. She never would have pegged herself for having a maternal instinct. In fact, she never pegged herself for having a maternal anything.

"I'll get you water," she said suddenly, standing up.

"I already have some."

She got him a second glass, anyway.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Dorota did not bring Anastasia for the rest of the week and for that Blair was thankful. That little thing was disarming. It surprised you and made you think. She was happy it was at home and not complicating things further in the Bass residence.

Blair sneezed, followed by a dainty cough that drew a look from Chuck across the room. She felt his eyes on her and turned from the kitchen with her eyebrows raised as she demanded, "What?"

"You're sick," he said.

It wasn't a question. It was a statement and she took irrational offense to it and shook her head obstinately. Blair Waldorf was never sick. In her twenty years of living she had only been sick a handful of times and they were all before her tenth birthday. She had a high tolerance to all things communicable and proudly extolled this to Chuck. He looked at her, unimpressed, and said, "Blair, you're sick."

"No," she countered. "I am perfectly fine."

The three sneezes that came one after another did little to help her point.

"You need to rest," Chuck told her.

"What do you not understand about me being perfectly fine?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe your sneezing and coughing? And you look flushed."

"I do not," she gasped.

"Yes, Blair, you do. Now, please, go lay down. You've been running around helping me all this time. You need to take care of yourself."

"And where do you suppose I go lay down?" She asked stubbornly, gesturing to his sprawled out position on the couch. Her own room had been sacrificed to her newfound penchant for reorganizing and all the contents of his kitchen cabinets were now thrown on top of her bed. The reorganizing lost its appeal the moment she saw her bed filled with countless knick-knacks of which she was positive Chuck had not purchased himself. She couldn't sort through that now even if she didn't have a splitting headache.

He answered, "My bed."

She glared at him and said, "Over my dead body."

He rolled his eyes. "Blair, I can honestly say that was not a come on."

"Oh please," she chided, shaking her head. "You've never said an honest thing in your life."

She knew that wasn't true but the one blaringly obvious choice was one she refused to acknowledge. Chuck had enough sense not to bring it up, either, and simply said, "Take a nap and then you can hurl more insults at me when you wake up."

"Naps are for children."

"Or for sick people."

She smiled sweetly and retorted, "Since I am neither a child or sick, I guess the nap really isn't necessary, is it?"

"Fine, suit yourself."

She smiled smugly at her small victory. With Chuck Bass, that was sometimes all you had.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

She felt like she was dying. Her throat was on fire and there was this peculiar sensation in her head that made it feel as if someone had their hands on either side of her head and were squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. The sneezing had worsened and they would come in little spurts, four or five at a time. One time she was handing Chuck a glass of water and had to stop mid-reach as she sneezed a total of seven times. Chuck looked at the glass and said, "I think I'll pass on water."

Still, she was fine.

She went about the room and did the menial tasks that she always did. Move picture frame a bit to the left, look at it and decide it was off now and move it a bit to the right. She washed the same dish over and over again, watched the same terrible shows that Chuck liked over and over again.

"Will you please go sleep?" Chuck finally asked, catching her doze off during some MTV reality show.

"And miss this prime entertainment?" She said in a hoarse voice. "Never."

"You know Dorota will make you rest when she comes."

"I know," Blair said irritably. "But Dorota is not coming until tomorrow. Therefore, I will not be bothered until tomorrow."

"Yeah, and you will be eight times worse tomorrow and Dorota will probably end up forcing you to go home."

"She wouldn't," Blair retorted but her voice held a bit less edge because she could, in fact, see Dorota going into caretaker overdrive and forcing Blair back to her home with a packet of tissues and thermos of chicken noodle soup. "Okay, maybe she would."

"And then I'd lose my caretaker."

He sound positively downtrodden at this and it was enough to make her suck up her pride and tell him, "Fine, I'll go take a nap. Which, may I point out, defeats the purpose of me _being_ here as your caretaker."

"You know I'm a loud yeller," he drawled.

And there, just like that, Chuck Bass and his smarmy tongue reunited.

"And a snorer," she snipped back as she walked to his bedroom. She didn't wait for his response but heard him call out from the couch, "Snore my ass, Waldorf."

She closed the door behind her and turned to face the bed.

The bed.

So much had happened on that bed that she couldn't help but stare at it with a mixture of bittersweet nostalgia and decidedly bitter distaste. She had memories of nights spent in his arms. Nights of whispering in the dark while they laid side by side only holding hands. She had been there beside him and revealed parts of herself that no one had seen before. He had, too.

That was why it was so difficult to envision him there with put-out Humphrey. In fact, she tried not to envision it. She tried hard but standing in front of it with the sheets still slightly crumpled from the last night he slept there she couldn't help but think about it all.

And then she was hit by a wave of coughing and suddenly all she wanted to do was sleep.

Tainted bed or not.

She climbed in and pulled the sheets up over her chest. She turned on her side and gave the pillow a small sniff. She could smell him along with the scent of Downy.

_Of course he washed the sheets_, she told herself. She imagined Chuck wanted to forget that night even more than she did so it was only natural the sheets would be properly washed. Besides, it had been weeks since that night.

She turned on to her back and closed her eyes. Gradually, the room slipped away until she was covered with beautiful, blissful, silence.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

"Feel better?" Chuck asked her when she emerged from his bedroom. Her hands flew to her hair and she flattened her tousled curls as she nodded.

"Yeah," she told him. "I'm fine."

Sleeping in his bed had affected her more than she cared to admit and what had happened with Jenny Humphrey refused to leave her mind. It was something that she tried not to think about on a regular basis and now that it refused to leave her mind, it made her tense.

"I presume my bed was comfortable?"

"It was adequate."

"Adequate? Those are 500 thread count sheets. Egyptian cotton, Waldorf, it better be adequate."

"Chuck, it was fine," she snapped, unable to resist adding, "considering all that has happened there."

She sat on one of the bar stools and the physical distance between them did not escape him. He sighed and said, "We're back here?"

He said it as if he was referring to some silly argument, not him screwing his stepsister. "Back _here_?" Blair threw at him. "Chuck, it's only been a month. It's going to take a hell of a lot longer to get past _here_."

"I'm trying, Blair," he said, sounding more exasperated than she thought he deserved. "Look, I don't know what else to do. You're the one who came here and decided to take over-"

"It's because Lily-

"Oh, stop the Lily excuses," he snapped. "I know you Blair and this has nothing to do with Lily."

Any momentary respite that Blair found from her nap was crushed by the difficult man in front of her and she balled her fists as she hissed, "And why did I come here then? Huh?"

"I'm not saying you came back because of me," Chuck leveled. "I'm not deranged enough as to think I could ever make this right. I fucked up and there is no going back. I know that. All I'm saying is that if you are going to be here day and night we need to move past what happened."

"And how do we do that?" She asked brutally, walking toward him. "Just forget it happened? Forget that you fucked little Jenny Humphrey?"

"I-"

"You must have a thing for taking virginities."

The words stung as much for Blair as they had for Chuck. She could practically see the cogs working in his head as he put the pieces together. After a moment he blurted out, "You don't think it's the same thing, do you?"

"Why wouldn't it be? I was nothing to you in the back of that limo."

The words sounded false, even to her, but she was too wound up to stop. Words spilled out too quickly for her to censor them.

"Blair-"

"I kind of think she came out ahead on that one. You at least gave her a bed. All I got was a dirty backseat of a limo."

In a low voice he said, "It's different, Blair, and you know it."

"This was a bad idea," she said, shaking her head. "I thought I could be around you but I was wrong. I can't do this anymore."

She heard him call for her as she walked away and into the guest room, throwing a suitcase atop the mess of kitchen items and tossing clothes in. She heard movement in the living room but didn't bother to pay it attention until she heard Chuck's voice from the doorway. She turned and found him standing there, silhouetted by the frame. He looked so normal standing there that she almost forgot there was a large bandage wrapped beneath the silk pajama topping.

"Don't go," he said.

"Sit down," she said curtly. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Blair, please."

She threw in her last shirt and the bottom hem snagged on the suitcases' zipper as she pulled it irritably. She heard it rip as she gave the zipper an agitated tug. She threw the suitcase on the ground and pulled up the handle. She walked to the doorway and stood in front of him.

"Chuck, move," she said.

She couldn't look at him as he said, "No."

"Chuck. Move."

"You can't even look at me."

She forced her eyes to meet his. "There, I looked at you. Now get out of my way."

She thought for a moment he was going to fight but then he sighed and stepped to the side. She walked past him quickly and walked to the elevator. With one press of her finger on the button the doors opened and she stepped inside. As the doors closed she realized just how much she had wanted this to work.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

She stood outside The Empire waiting for a taxi. It seemed to take forever and she wondered if Chuck himself was responsible for the delay. The thought was ridiculous, though. Not even Chuck could control the flow of taxis.

Especially this Chuck. The one who weeks before couldn't even feed himself. The one who still needed the support of her arm to get from the couch to the bathroom. The one who was now alone.

Almost immediately she was bogged with _what ifs_. What if he fell and hurt himself on the way to the bathroom? What if he overworked himself and tore one of his stitches? What if he went on the balcony for some reason and lost balance and toppled down onto a busy New York street?

The last one was hardly plausible but the other two were real enough that she turned around and walked back in, taking the elevator up to the penthouse while silently praying that he hadn't done anything stupid in her absence. She walked in and felt her heart jump into her throat when she saw him on the floor, his arm grasping at the coffee table as he struggled to pull himself up. She dropped her bag immediately and ran to him.

"Chuck," she said in a strangled voice as she crouched next to him. "Oh God, what happened?"

He put his arm around her shoulders and she wrapped an arm around his torso to help him stand. He looked over at her and said, "I didn't think you'd come back."

She frowned and said, "Someone has to keep you from killing yourself. Come on, back to the couch."

He grimaced as they walked and she worried that he might have ripped his stitches and made both of her nightmares come to fruition. Her fears were somewhat alleviated, however, when she sat him down and he said, "Stubbed my damn toe on the way down. What are the odds?"

She laughed despite herself and said, "That is definitely unfortunate. Do your stitches feel okay?"

He nodded and then both of them were silent. He was staring off somewhere that she couldn't follow but her thoughts were preoccupying enough. Sitting next to him she thought of how all her former resolve to leave had seeped away at the thought of him hurt and seeing him on the floor made her now resolved to stay.

There was something she had to do first.

She stood abruptly and walked the kitchen and grabbed a garbage bag. Next she went into his bedroom. Looming over the bed her fingers grabbed at the sheets and she pulled them away with a feverish energy.

Perhaps she did still have a fever.

She pulled at the fitted sheet and felt a deep satisfaction as she heard a seam rip at her harsh tug. She stuffed the sheets into the garbage bag and when she felt that wasn't enough she spit heartily into the bag and then closed it shut.

When she went back out into the living room Chuck looked at the bag and then her. "Does this mean you're staying?"

"Yes."

**A/N: Thoughts? I would love to hear your reactions to this!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Gah, this took long. Like..Titanic long. Anyhoo, hopefully it is worth the wait. I hope you enjoy!**

Coming Out

"I like this one." Blair pulled a dress from the rack in Chanel and pressed it against her body. Serena gave her a discerning look and then nodded toward the dressing room. "Try it on."

"Will do," Blair said, clutching the hanger as she moved down the row of dresses. She pulled out a brocade dress in robin's egg blue and then immediately put it back. Whoever made pastels in fashion again should be shot, she thought.

"It feels so good to be out," Blair said, sighing contently as she touched a deep red boucle jacket. "I've been going stir crazy."

"Is Dorota there now?"

Blair nodded. "With Vanya and Anastasia, you should see the four of them together. It is so odd. And Anastasia worships him despite the fact that he avoids her like some plague."

Serena snorted and she followed Blair to the dressing room. "So, he's still afraid of babies?"

Blair smiled. "Yes, he is."

A salesperson approached and took the dresses from Blair's hand as she led them to her dressing room. When she stepped in she saw a few dresses she hadn't picked out. The salesperson cheerily explained, "I took the liberty to choose a few things I thought you'd like."

Blair knew she wouldn't like any of them but forced herself to smile and thank the woman. She beamed proudly and walked out. Serena stepped forward and looked at the dresses, barely containing her laughter.

"Oh B, good restraint. These are hideous."

"I know, right?" Blair pulled her hair into a low knot. "That is why I do all of my shopping. Okay, out S, I need to try this on."

Serena closed the door and Blair changed into the dress. It was silk and slid against her skin as she moved. Donning the dress she did a little turn and checked the back in the long mirror. Content she opened the door and modeled the dress for Serena who nodded appreciatively. "That's the one, B."

"Do you think it's appropriate?"

Resolutely, she answered, "Nothing says cancer research like a Chanel dress."

"True, alright, let's get out of here and get some lunch. I'm starved."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Blair returned from lunch and walked in on the still jarring sight of the four of them sitting around the television while something child appropriate played on the screen. Today's show of choice was _Curious George_ and Chuck seemed overly involved in the story line for someone of twenty. She smiled to herself and walked into her bedroom and deposited her dress on the bed.

"Ms. Blair."

She turned to Dorota. "Hello."

"How was your lunch?"

"Good."

"Did you get dress for tonight?"

Blair nodded. "A trip to Chanel solves any fashion crisis."

Dorota stood awkwardly beside her and Blair smiled when she realized what she was waiting for. "Yes, Dorota, you and your family can go home. I can take care of things from here."

Dorota grinned. "Thank you, Ms. Blair." She began to leave but Blair stopped her. "Dorota, wait."

"Yes, Ms. Blair?"

"Thank you for all your help here. I really do appreciate what you've done."

Dorota blushed and sheepishly answered, "It my job."

"Chuck is not your job, though."

"What Ms. Blair care about is job," Dorota said simply. "Ms. Blair care about Mr. Chuck."

And just like that Dorota voiced what Blair had been unable to for an entire month.

"Right," she said with a succinct nod. "Well, thanks anyway."

Dorota nodded with a grin and then left the room. Blair heard the family shuffle out as she took the dress from its garment bag and laid it on the bed. She felt someone behind her and looked up to see Chuck standing at the door. She went to chide him for being up but stopped when she remembered Dr. Rubenstein telling him that he should begin moving around more. Even she could not argue with the doctor's recommendations.

"That's a beautiful dress," he said.

"Thank you."

"Where are you wearing it?"

She heard what was under his words and assuaged his worry by telling him, "A society function for cancer research. Lily organized it."

Chuck was silent.

"I needed a new dress," she further explained. "You can't go wrong with Chanel."

"Very true," he conceded. "Who are you going with?"

Blair suppressed a grin at his attempt to blanket his jealousy with cordiality and told him, "A blonde."

Chuck's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes narrowed but his voice was remarkably uninterested as he replied, "Ah, well, good for you."

He went to turn and she said, "I'm going with Serena, Chuck."

He turned back. "Serena? Really, Blair, you could do better."

"Oh, like who?"

She knew the answer before he spoke. "I would propose myself but seeing that you have not so much as mentioned this event before now I assume I am not invited."

Not exactly the answer she expected.

"Chuck, of course you're invited. You're Chuck Bass."

He smiled at his often-used phrase coming from her lips. "That I am."

"Would you like to go with me?"

The phrasing was too perfect and he drawled, "You mean as your date?"

"My escort," she clarified. "Don't get cocky now."

"I would be honored."

She nodded, trying to ignore the tension in the pit of her stomach that she grudgingly realized was nerves. "We leave in an hour."

"Well, then I better start getting ready." He straightened up as much as his condition would allow. "Need to make a good first impression on everyone."

He turned around and headed to his bedroom. She heard water run and literally slapped her wrist when she found herself inappropriately hoping he would ask her for help.

"Keep it together," she snapped as she closed her door.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

She was nervous. They had gone to countless events together yet sitting on the couch waiting for him to emerge from his bedroom she felt what she could not deny were tense, overwrought nerves. She couldn't stop fidgeting-cross legs, uncross legs, check earring backs, twist ring around and around her finger. She was never so happy for him to come out just because it gave her something to focus on besides the irritating twitches of her body.

All movement ceased when she saw him dressed in one of her favorite suits and she forced herself to look unimpressed when all she wanted to do was cry. Standing before her was the Chuck that she had known and loved. He was her Chuck again, if for only a night.

"You clean up well," she said, rising from her seat.

"You look beautiful."

"Chanel suits me," she answered and as his eyes travelled down her body he told her, "Anything suits you."

"Let's go," she said quickly. "We don't want to be late."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

All eyes were on them as they entered the banquet hall. She could hear the murmurs but was somewhat calmed by the knowledge that they were all looking at him and not her. For once, she was truly an accessory. Chuck Bass had been shot in a deserted alley in Prague. He was the gossip of the night.

"Chuck!" Serena trilled, scurrying toward them. She went to hug him but stopped short, her arms half extended. He chuckled and told her, "You can if you do so very carefully."

She grinned and gave him a soft hug, her torso not touching his. Blair watched with unfounded jealousy. She wanted to hug him, hang on him, but her damn pride would not allow it.

"You look good," Serena enthused. "You look really, really good."

"What about me?" Blair griped. "I know I wasn't shot but I have been taking care of this one day and night for a month.

"You look great, B," Serena said with a grin. "Come on, you're seated at my table."

They walked over to the table and Blair spotted Lily sitting with her husband, her hair twisted into a conservative knot. The moment Lily saw Chuck she stopped talking and her hand flew to her chest. She rose from her seat as if she had seen a ghost and hurried over to Chuck.

"Oh Charles," she breathed out, hugging him lightly and kissing him on the cheek. "I had no idea you would be here."

"Blair convinced me. She said it would be good for me to get out and be with my friends and family again."

He spoke so smoothly and she couldn't understand why he didn't take credit for his own return to society. It hadn't been her idea, after all.

"Is it safe?" Lily asked.

Chuck nodded. "Yes, it is completely safe. Dr. Rubenstein told me that I should begin moving around more."

Lily threaded her arm through his and grinned. "Well, I am glad that you are here, Charles. Come, sit next to me."

As Lily ushered him to the seat besides hers Blair felt a momentary flare up that he would not be sitting next to her. She then reminded herself, tersely, that he was her escort _not_ date so he could sit wherever he damn well pleased. And besides, it was with Lily not some put-out redhead. She sat down next to Serena who whispered, "He really does look good, Blair. You've been a good little caretaker."

"I can't take all the credit," Blair answered with a humbleness that was uncharacteristic. "Dorota helped and the doctor was there and all."

Serena patted her hand. "You did a good job, B."

Blair smiled and reached for her wine glass and took a sip. She guessed it was true. She had done a good job.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

The table cleared as the dancing began. Serena was picked up by some shipping tycoon and Lily and Rufus took their place out on the floor. Chuck smiled at her across the table and she rose from her seat and took the one beside him. She caught notes of his cologne and allowed herself to revel in the familiarity for a moment.

"One thing I can't do," he said, nodding his head toward the dance floor.

"It's terrible music, anyway," she answered, despite the fact that she was actually quite fond of the ensemble.

He grinned and shook his head. "Thank you for that but, no, it is not terrible music. You like this ensemble, in fact."

Once again she found herself speechless at the things he remembered. Staring at him without one word of her tongue he told her, "They were at the Manning wedding. You told me that you had never heard an ensemble play like them before."

She found her voice and answered, "I did say that, didn't I?"

He nodded.

"Well, look at this!"

Both look up and found possibly the most irritating socialite in existence looking down at them with her hands planted firmly on her sharp hipbones. Penelope Egan was someone Blair avoided all costs when at events because if caught as she was now there was no telling what her sharp tongue would do the irritating woman. She didn't know Chuck's opinion on the woman. Considering her pert nose and cosmetically enhanced chest (and her tendency to nix panties) Blair never asked.

"Hello Penelope," Blair said politely.

"Well, _lllooookk_ at this!"

"Yes, you are looking," Chuck told her. "We have established that."

"I heard that you two had separated but here you are looking as settled as a married couple."

Blair stiffened immediately and her sharp tongue unleashed itself on the unassuming Penelope. "We are separated."

Penelope's eyes widened. "Oh, then I didn't hear incorrectly."

Blair looked ready to kill the woman and Chuck was not exactly keen on spending anymore time with her so he stood carefully from his seat and offered Blair his hand. "Let's dance."

Blair knew dancing would only lend more fuel to the fire of their supposed reunion but the thought of spending one more minute in Penelope's presence overrode anything else and she rose from her seat and led Chuck to the dance floor.

"I detest that woman," Blair said as Chuck slid an arm around her waist. "I thought you couldn't dance?"

"We will have to go slow," he told her.

She draped an arm around his neck. "I can do that."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

After they returned to the table Blair headed to the bathroom. As she left the hall someone grabbed her arm and she turned and found in horror Jack Bass leering down at her with his characteristic wolfish grin.

"Blair Waldorf."

"What are you doing here?" she spat, ripping her arm from his grasp.

"Glad to see you've lost none of your spark." He glanced over her shoulder and spotted Chuck. "Well, this is interesting."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Chuck felt anger rise in his chest when he saw Jack Bass taint her wrist with his poisonous touch. It brought back the memory of what had happened and made it all too real for Chuck. He rose from his seat and stalked over toward them.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

"I had heard you two separated," Jack said lightly. "Considering all that happened I cannot entirely blame you. My nephew is an expert at fucking up a good thing."

"You disgust me," Blair hissed as Chuck came to her side. Jack appraised him with a sardonic grin and said, "Chuck, we were just talking about you."

"Get the hell out of here," he growled.

"Now, now, Chuck, respect your elders."

"You don't deserve respect," Blair threw at him vehemently. "After all you've done to him. Not to mention what you did to Lily."

"I already apologized for that several times," he said.

"Apologies don't suffice where rape is concerned," she shot back.

"Attempted," he corrected, as if it changed what had happened. "Now, Chuck, enough about the past. I heard you were shot."

Chuck straightened up said, "You heard correctly."

"I wonder what you were doing in Prague, especially in that area."

Blair knew the reason and despite the progress they had made the vague reference to it still made her eyes flash. Nothing got past Jack Bass and he smiled wide at her reaction. "Ah, I see. It seems that I was correct before." He looked at Chuck. "You did mess this up, didn't you?"

Chuck stepped forward and vehemently said, "How did you even get in here? I thought security would have weeded out vermin like you."

"Such a sharp tongue," Jack chided. "And here I was thinking we were going to play nice."

"You know what, just leave us alone," Blair said, stepping between the two of them. "You've done enough, Jack."

His snakelike eyes danced. "If I remember correctly, I kept us from doing much more."

Blair cried out as Chuck's fist connected with the side of Jack's face with a sickening crack. She grabbed at Chuck's arm but he shook her off and descended on his uncle again as he hissed, "You are never to talk to her again. Never."

"Please escort him out," she heard Lily say from behind her. The men went to grab Chuck and Lily stepped forward and said, "No, the other one."

There was a moment's hesitation but then security grabbed Jack Bass and forced him from the premises. Lily touched Chuck gently on the arm and asked if he was okay. He nodded, shaking his bruised hand a bit.

People were whispering all around them. They had seen Chuck throw his fist into his uncle's face. To bystanders it was unprovoked. Lily knew better, though. In fact she knew better than anyone, more than Blair even. The head chair of the event, Lily used her clout and linked her arm with Chuck's and led him back to the table. Blair followed, noting how people began to politely avert their eyes. Lily was entirely in control here. They may not understand what had just transpired but Lily's seeming disregard for it all convinced them that it was nothing but a familial dispute. Nothing for them to be bothered with.

Blair sat next to Chuck as they sat down, not caring much if she was taking someone's seat. Lily sat gracefully on his other side.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said to her. "I didn't mean to disrupt your event."

"Nonsense," she said, squeezing his arm gently. "And I'm sure he deserved it." Her lips set into a tense line. "He's just lucky you got to him before Rufus. You two should go dance or something. Enjoy yourselves. Don't let him ruin tonight."

"Are you up to it?" Blair asked, not wanting to push him too much. He nodded and stood up. She noticed he was shaky, however, and took his arm to steady him. They walked out to the dance floor where they had been not ten minutes earlier and his arms returned to her waist as they swayed from side to side. He didn't speak and she knew better than to push him. Dealing with Jack usually left him beyond words.

"I'm so ashamed," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?" She asked, unsure of what exactly he was hedging towards.

Chuck avoided her gaze. "Seeing him again, it made me realize just how terrible it all would have been." His eyes locked on hers. "I will never forgive myself for what I almost did to you, Blair."

"Almost," Blair repeated gently. "It didn't happen, Chuck. It didn't."

He shook his head sadly, "And that wasn't even because of me. I wish I was the one who saved you but I wasn't. It was him."

"He's a terrible person," she told him sternly, tightening her grip on his hand when he would not look at her. "Jack Bass is an ass hole. Nothing he does will ever change that."

"I'm so sorry," he breathed out. "For everything."

Their eyes locked and she did something then that surprised herself. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. It was a ghost of a kiss, her lips barely brushing his skin, but his arm tightened around her waist and pulled her closer. She was going to fight and hold on to the bitterness that she had come to know so well. She was going to resist the pull behind her belly button, the heat spreading and spreading. Hold on to her pride. Instead, she let go and laid her cheek on his shoulder. When she heard his breath hitch she knew she had made the correct choice.

**A/N: Look at Chuck there..gettin' a little cheek action! Ow ow! Okay, sorry, I'll stop assaulting your eyes with my terrible attempts at jokes. Please leave your thoughts on this! Like it? Hate it? LOVE it? Let me know!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: New chapter! Below is the next installment to the story. It is part serious conversation and part serious fluff. Basically, it is a flufftastic little ditty. Do not say you were not warned :-)**

Taking it One Day at a Time

They were on the road to recovery so she decided it was appropriate to ask him to accompany her to her favorite pond to feed the ducks. He had looked surprised when she asked him, pulling his attention from the Wall Street Journal laying on his lap.

"Really?" he asked.

She smiled a bit and nodded her head. The grin that he returned made her feel the slightest bit nervous. "Alright, I'll get you your jacket."

She returned with one of his favorite sport coats and helped him slip it on. Her fingers gripped the lapels as she brought it over his shoulders and for a moment she stayed rooted in front of him, his body closer to hers than usual with her fingers gripping the suit coat's material. A text message brought her back to reality and she sheepishly let go of his jacket and walked over to check it.

"You're so popular, Waldorf," he drawled.

"Damn right I am," she answered with a flip of her hair.

She picked up her purse and pulled lightly on the sleeve of his jacket. "Come on, we don't want to miss the birds."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

They stood in front of the fountain and Blair tossed bits of bread at its base. She didn't offer Chuck any bread and he didn't ask. It was an unspoken understanding that he was a bystander, a guest to her ritual. He enjoyed just being there with her, though. He felt as if he was seeing something private that others didn't witness. There was unbridled joy on her face as she tossed the bread and watched the birds descend on it. She laughed freely as one bird pushed another to the side forcefully to get a piece.

"That is me in bird form," she told Chuck proudly. "You bet I would get my damn piece of bread."

"I don't doubt it," Chuck told her. "It would go a bit differently, though."

She looked to him. "How so?"

"All of these birds, they would be bringing the bread to you." His finger drew an imaginary circle around the cluster of birds. "See, you wouldn't even deal with the masses."

She grinned up at him. "I like the way you think."

He clasped his hands in front of him and nodded his head. "You are one of few."

She laughed and tossed a few more crumbs for the birds. He realized then how domestic they must seem to onlookers. A seemingly content couple passing an afternoon in Central Park. He felt an urge to take her hand but ignored it. He wouldn't want to ruin the pretty picture with her refusing his hand.

Out of bread, she looked over at him and said, "We should talk, you know."

He knew this was coming but was surprised by her timing. Central Park and its birds had always been a safe haven to Blair and he was surprised she would bring up anything as tawdry as the dismemberment of their relationship. A second moment of thought, however, proved otherwise, though, and showed him that the locale was in fact ideal. This was Blair's world he was in now and she was entirely in control.

He didn't know whether or not he was supposed to talk. With Blair, one usually let her do the talking but he wasn't sure how things were supposed to proceed here. He went to take a breath, words forming on his mouth, but then she spoke. "I know it was different."

"You do?"

She nodded, her eyes trained on the fountain and not him. He could tell she was nervous. Her fingertips picked at her cuticles and he could see the skin turn an irritable red beneath. "I only said it because I was upset. Sleeping in your room again, it-well-it was difficult for me."

He blanched as he realized just what it must have looked like when he easily suggested she sleep in his room, in his bed. He understood her hesitance now. It wasn't his room that bothered her it was what had happened there.

"I'm sorry," he said, cursing himself for his insensitivity. "I didn't think."

She nodded her acceptance.

"I would never hurt you intentionally like that."

She looked over at him and asked, "You wouldn't?"

His eyes snapped to hers. "No, never, Blair I know that I hurt you but you have to understand that it was never my intention. All those things that I did, those stupid fucking things, it wasn't to hurt or spite you."

"That's just it," she said. "You act without any thought to repercussions. You don't think how what you do will affect others. How it will affect me."

"I'll-I'll get better," Chuck stammered. Feeling that he was losing her he reached for her waist and felt emboldened by the touch of his fingertips on her waist. "I'll be better."

Her hands went instinctively onto his arms. "I want to believe you."

"Then believe me." He didn't dare touch his lips to hers but he pulled her in closer.

"There's a lot of pain between us," she said. Her hands shifted slightly on his arms, her fingers rubbing against the fine material of his Canali jacket. "That won't just go away."

"It shouldn't," he answered. "I should have to work for this. I know it's going to take a lot to regain your trust but I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"Spending long hours with Anastasia?" She teased softly, remembering how uncomfortable the small infant made him.

He paused. "If that's what it takes."

"And endless viewings of Audrey Hepburn movies." He smirked. "Until you can recite them word for word."

"Just throw in one John Wayne so I'm not entirely emasculated."

"Alright, deal." Her voice was light but it grew more serious as she said, "This will take work, you know."

"Anything worth having does."

She smiled softly and slid her hands up his arms until they were in an embrace. Her head fit comfortably against his chest and she could hear his heart beating quickly beneath her ear. It was with that heartbeat that she discovered he had been nervous. She pulled away and reached in her purse to pull out another piece of bread. She handed it to him and he looked at her for a moment before pulling off a piece and tossing it to the birds. Wordlessly, she grabbed his band.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

"We're taking it slow," Blair announced, sitting with Serena at a café. "We are rational adults who experienced several setbacks but we are getting past them."

"I never thought I would hear the words _rational adult_ and _Chuck Bass_ in the same sentence," Serena mused. "You seem happy, though."

"I am," Blair admitted. "We didn't rush into this. We've talked and I feel we're at a good place. Things aren't like they were before, of course."

"They shouldn't be. A lot happened," Serena reminded her.

Blair leaned forward in her seat and reached forward for the sugar cubes. She dropped one into her cup of coffee and watched it dissolve into the dark liquid. Serena was right. A lot had happened and no one knew better than Blair, herself. She had been in that room alone with Jack. She had stood by his side and listened to the Jenny Humphrey debacle, looking like some unassuming dupe beside him. If anyone understood that a lot had happened, it was Blair. And still, she loved him. "I hope you know what you're doing," Serena said, noting the look on her old friend's face.

"I don't," Blair admitted. "But that's half the fun."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

They had spent nearly a year together yet in their scarce few months apart she had forgotten simple things like his smile when he saw her and the feel of his fingertips mingling with hers. She had forgotten the ease in which they coexisted, the alignment of their movements. It seemed all her senses were heightened and something as simple as a shared meal was filled with an elevated intimacy.

Blair cooked for him one night. At the height of her discomfort with Chuck she had resorted to following Dorota closely while she went about the room. One day she had stayed with her nanny as she made Chuck dinner. It was an experience like no other. Never having paid much attention to cooking before, she was entranced by how a mélange of seemingly singular items became a working cohesive unit- a meal. Dorota had noticed the interest and instructed Blair on creating a number of other dishes, as well. Tonight she was making him a typical Hungarian stew fragrant with stewed tomatoes and paprika.

"That looks interesting," Chuck said delicately, watching a few feet from the stove. She heard the uncertainty plainly in his voice. "Don't judge before you taste it."

"Okay, but don't poison me. I am recovering from a gun shot wound, you know."

"Oh, would you rather I starved you?"

"Dorota would not let me starve." She smirked at him over her shoulder. "You, Chuck, forget that she is my nanny and not yours."

"I think she secretly likes me better," he teases.

"No," she retorts. "She doesn't."

With a grin he relents, "You're probably right."

"Sit down at the table," she said, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. He watched the movement of her wrist, momentarily entranced by the way it bent and twisted. The look she gave him over her shoulder, however, stole his attention from her dainty wrist and he obligingly sat down at the table, which was already set with two soup bowls.

She grabbed a potholder and wrapped it securely around the handle before lifting the pot from the stove and ladling them each a bowlful. She put the pot back on the stove and returned with a loaf of bread.

"Just tear a piece off," she told him.

He raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Tear a piece off? It feels so common."

"You don't have a bread knife," she countered. "And I'd rather not be sawing at it for ten minutes."

He grinned and pulled himself off a piece. "Alright, you convinced me."

He dunk the bread into the stew and took a bite. He saw that Blair was watching intently. He could feel the floor vibrate with the tapping of her foot.

"Well?" She asked impatiently, leaning forward.

"Yes?"

She sighed irritably. "Is it any good?"

It hadn't occurred to him that she would be nervous about her cooking and he grinned. "I'm still alive. That's one thing."

"Chuck!"

"It's good," he relented, chuckling as her foot landed hard on his beneath the table. "Careful Waldorf, I am an injured man."

"Yeah, you'll be even more injured if you say one more thing about my cooking."

He always loved Blair when she pouted. Her lips pushed out and her eyes narrowed. He thought she was her most beautiful then with fire burning behind her brown eyes.

"It is delicious," he said gently, taking a large spoonful.

She dropped her irritation like some unwanted garment and offered him a slight grin. She took a spoonful of the stew, mindful to glide her spoon away from her in the bowl, just as her mother had taught her. She placed it in her mouth tentatively and her eyes widened at the burst of flavor in her mouth. Chuck watched and grinned. "See, I told you."

"This is _really_ good," she said through a full mouth. A bit of stew dribbled down her chin but she barely noticed as she took another spoonful.

God, she was even beautiful with food dribbling down her chin. He chuckled to himself at this and she asked, "What is it?"

"You seemed to have missed your mouth."

"Huh?"

He gestured to her chin and finally noticing the moisture she laughed sheepishly and went to bring her napkin to her chin.

"Wait," he said, reaching forward. "It's my turn, isn't it?"

She kept completely still as his thumb brushed her chin. He paused as his thumb touched the curve of her lower lip. Quickly she grabbed his wrist and her sparkled as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of his thumb. She released his wrist and he wiped the smudge of stew on his napkin.

Without speaking, they continued to eat.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

She asked if they could watch _Oceans 12_ after dinner and he happily obliged. It was better than one of her old movies and he always liked movies with a good dose of scheming. They sat on the couch with their shoulders touching. Their hands inched towards each other as the movie progressed until hers settled on his knee. He covered it with his own.

"You remind me of him," Blair said, nodding toward the screen.

"I remind you of George Clooney?"

She nodded.

"I don't see it."

"Not looks really, but the way you act."

He stared at the screen. "I still don't see it."

When the movie ended Blair leaned back and arched her back as she stretched. Chuck forced himself not to watch. She sat up straight and said, "Well, I am going to go to bed."

"Me too."

They both stood and faced each other.

"Good night."

"Yeah, g'night."

Neither moved and he inched his head toward hers. He went slow, wanting to give her every opportunity to turn away. It was his idea to go slow and he didn't want to rush things. He hesitated a fraction of an inch from her lips and she closed the distance. The kiss was deeper than the one they had shared days ago in Central Park. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her closer. He felt a warmness spread in his belly when she opened her mouth and his tongue touched hers.

She pulled away first and dropped her arms from around his neck. He grudgingly let go of her waist and watched her turn away. "See you tomorrow," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Yeah, tomorrow."

Alone, they both walked to their respective rooms.

**A/N: Don't worry, Chuck and Blair will be sharing a room (and bed) soon. All in good time, friends. For now, though, I had to keep it a bit chaste. Just so you all know, this will probably only be two or three chapters more. Probably two. I know the ending. It is pretty good stuff (one of YOU actually suggested it) so prepare yourselves! **

**Anyhoo, thank you for reading and PLEASE leave a review. I am currently stuck in a house with no air conditioning and a very possibly leaking water valve (thank you house for falling apart ALL at once). So...make me smile with some reviews. Please?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello there! I am proud to announce the return of Blair Waldorf's scheming in this chapter. I'm sure you have missed it dearly. Things in this chapter:**

**1) Buckets of schemes.**

**2) Mysterious text messages.**

**3) Limos.**

**4) Backs of limos.**

**Make of that what you will ;-)**

How Blair Waldorf Got Her Groove Back...Sort of.

There was something about sharing breakfast that felt terribly domesticated. Throughout all his years of womanizing and bed-hopping, Chuck Bass had avoided sharing breakfast with the dexterity of a regular commitment phobic. Sharing a meal so early in the day was too intimate. It was too personal. And even more bothersome, it was too drab, too normal. Since Blair, however, his opinion on the morning meal had changed. He would never admit it but his breakfasts with Blair were some of his favorite times with her.

"This toaster has a personal vendetta against me," Blair huffed, pulling out two burnt pieces of toast. "I am buying you a new one."

"The setting is probably too high," he said from the table. "Lower it."

She glared back at him and said, "I am not an idiot, Bass. I lowered the setting and it still burned the damn toast."

Chuck laughed and hoisted himself up gingerly from the table. He walked over and peered at the toaster. "You still have the setting too high."

Blair scowled at him while he stepped over to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Why do I put up with you?"

"I ask myself that same question every morning."

His comment cut through her early morning toaster-induced irritation and she smiled softly and padded over to him for a quick kiss. After she padded back to the toaster and stared it down with a steely look. "Toaster, don't mess with me again."

"I'm sure it wouldn't dare cross you again."

He poured her a cup of coffee and brought both the cups to the table and sat back down. There was a bowl of fruit on the table that Dorota had cut the day before and he reached in and took a piece of cantaloupe. He heard the toaster go off behind him and looked back to see Blair pull out two perfectly toasted pieces of bread. She grinned and plated them, carrying several jars of imported jam to the table along with the toast.

Chuck smeared fig jam on his toast and took a bite. "This, Blair, is perfectly toasted."

"Of course it is," she answered. "I never make the same mistake twice." She found the error in her words and added, "Well, except for you."

"This time won't be a mistake," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. She smiled and said, "It better not otherwise I'll set your recovery back months."

"Let's do something today."

"Like what?"

"Walk around the city or-I don't know-see a movie?"

She snorted and said, "Chuck and Blair seeing a movie? I thought that was impossible."

"Nothing is impossible."

"Fine, unlikely." She took a bite of toast. "It seems a bit common, doesn't it?"

"Nothing is common with us, Blair. We elevate even a rinky-dink movie theater."

She grinned. "That we do."

"I've got it," Chuck said after a moment. "Picnic in the park."

"Chuck," Blair said slowly, "are you serious?"

"As death," he deadpanned.

"Chuck and Blair picnicking?" Blair said, testing the words on her tongue. "It sounds so quaint."

He took her hand and kissed her palm. "It sounds wonderful."

"Alright," she said, giving him a warm grin. "Picnic in the park it is."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Chuck and Blair sat in Central Park with the requisite picnic blanket and basket. Blair had asked Dorota to prepare a selection of sandwiches and salads and Chuck had topped the basket off with a bottle of red wine on the way out.

"We didn't bring any wine glasses," Blair noted, rifling through the basket.

"We'll drink from the bottle," he answered easily, fishing out the corkscrew and driving it into the cork. Blair watched as Chuck delicately drew the cork out and then take a sip from the bottle. He passed it to her and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "This feels so wrong."

"Just do it, Waldorf."

She shot him a look and then tipped the bottle back gingerly. A bit dripped from her mouth and she wiped it away sheepishly as she handed Chuck the bottle.

"I have much to teach you," Chuck said with a grin. He took the bottle and easily took a long sip.

"Do you know what I want right now?" Blair asked, leaning toward him.

"What would that be?"

She leaned forward a bit more so that the deep v of her dress revealed a hint of her lacy bra and purred, "Look behind you."

Chuck turned and Blair languidly pointed a finger toward a colorful gelato truck. "You want gelato?" he asked, turning back to her.

She nodded. "Yes, that is exactly what I want."

"And you want me to get it?" he asked knowingly. She nodded her head up and down and he said with feigned disbelief, "You are making an injured man go and get you gelato?"

"That is exactly what I am doing," she said. "And you are no longer injured. You are _recovering_. Something I have been integral to and-"

"Okay, okay," he relented with a grin. "I will get you your gelato."

She kissed him softly on the cheek with a whispered thank you and then he carefully stood up and went across the street to get her gelato. She watched him walk away in is lightweight Brooks Brother suit and relished in the fact that she knew without a doubt he would be walking back -and with gelato. She thought for a moment that she was possibly more excited about that second part. She felt the picnic blanket vibrate and saw Chuck's phone next to the basket. She tried to ignore it. There was nothing to worry about, after all. He loved her and after what they had gone through she knew he would not do anything to mess it up. She trusted Chuck and there was no reason to be suspicious of one text message.

His phone was just laying there, though, and the blinking screen seemed to be mocking her. _One look wouldn't be a crime_, she rationalized. And besides, she always had a curious nature. That was something Chuck had always loved about her. Resolute in her decision, she reached forward quickly and flipped open the phone. Despite her rationalizations, she looked up anxiously to make sure Chuck was still at the gelato cart before opening the message.

_Tomorrow. 5:00._

The number wasn't listed and she frowned as she closed the phone and put it back beside the basket. Her head was spinning as she tried to suppress her mounting suspicion. Chuck loved her. She could trust him-she _did_ trust him. It was probably an innocuous message or one that he wasn't supposed to receive. There was a perfectly sound explanation, she was sure of it.

She pulled the wine from the basket and took a hearty sip.

"You're learning," Chuck said upon his return, sitting down next to her and handing over the gelato. She took it with a tight smile. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Blair answered. "Perfectly fine."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Blair walked out of the elevator into the Van der Woodsen apartment. She looked around briefly and when she did not see Serena she called out, "Serena, I need you! Now!"

It took a moment but then Serena emerged from her bedroom looking at her oddly as she said, "Did I miss a call or something?"

"No, you didn't," Blair said, dropping dramatically into the Van der Woodsen's plush couch. "I am having a dilemma."

Serena smirked at her friend's dramatics and asked, "And what dilemma is that, B?"

"Chuck and I were having a picnic and I looked at one of his texts-"

"Blair, why would you do that?"

"Because I am curious," Blair said. "And his phone was just laying there while Chuck was getting us gelato-"

"You made Chuck go get you gelato?" Serena asked with a grin. Blair pursed her lips into a frown and said, "Do you want to hear about this or not?"

"Sorry, go on."

"I looked at the text, from an unknown number, and it read _Tomorrow. 5:00_."

"That's it?"

Blair nodded. "Yes." She looked at Serena and couldn't deny the way her friend's face had fallen. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"You don't know that."

"I shouldn't have looked," Blair lamented. "I should have just left it alone."

"Blair, I'm sure it's nothing."

"He promised he wouldn't hurt me again," she said softly. "He promised."

"Look, just don't overreact. You should ask Chuck. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"I can't tell him I checked his phone."

"Blair, he knows you," she reminded her. "I doubt he'll be surprised."

"I can't tell him." She picked at her manicure and an idea slowly came to her. At first it was an abstract idea but as she picked off a large chip of Park Avenue Red nailpolish the plan solidified. "I'll find out myself."

"Blair," Serena warned. "No scheming."

"No scheming," Blair agreed. "Following."

"No, Blair-"

"I'll follow him to wherever he is going tomorrow," Blair said, her voice raising in excitement. "I'll take a cab so that he won't get suspicious. I'll take Dorota with me and we'll follow his limo."

"Blair, this is really not a good idea."

"It's a fine idea," Blair announced. "And it will work."

She stood up and smoothed her skirt, feeling a sense of calm that had evaded her since the picnic. She would find out what was going on and on her own terms. It would all turn out okay. She was sure of it.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

"Why not just ask Mr. Chuck where he going?" Dorota asked as her and Blair followed Chuck's limo in a taxicab. "He tell you."

"Because that is not the way we are doing things," Blair explained slowly. Her voice grew tarter as she snapped at the driver, "Keep up with that limo!"

"It will all work out, Dorota," Blair continued pleasantly. "You'll see, it will all work out."

"Whatever you say, Ms. Blair."

Blair nodded approvingly as her stomach curled with anxiety. She loved Chuck and he loved her yet she could not help feeling unsure on what she was embarking on. He had told her that he was going to the Plaza and she frowned as his limo sailed past the hotel.

"It will all work out," she repeated, but her face had fallen and Dorota noticed.

"Oh, Ms. Blair," she said, patting her hand. Blair ripped her hand away irritably and snapped, "Don't. There is an explanation. There has to be."

Chuck's limo pulled into a small bar that she knew Chuck frequented and she felt her stomach drop when he climbed out and made his way in. "Stay here," she told Dorota as she climbed out of the cab. She followed at a safe distance and stationed herself in a moderately concealed spot as Chuck walked over to the bar. She watched him sit opposite a man and pull out an envelope from the inside of his suitjacket. A man that she didn't recognize took the envelope and opened it briefly, taking a peek inside. He reached into his own jacket and pulled out a folded stack of papers. Chuck watched him intently as the man spoke and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something that she couldn't see. It was small and she leaned forward to identify the object.

"What the..," she breathed out, recognizing the shape of a jewelry box.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

"The two men were caught right outside of Prague," the man said to Chuck. "They both have twenty years."

"They should get longer," Chuck hissed, remembering the feel of the men's arms barricading him, the cool of the gun against his skin. "Were you able to get it back?"

The man nodded and reached into his jacket. He pulled out the ring box and handed it to Chuck. "It was on the men when they were caught."

Chuck's heart quickened when he opened up the box and the diamond caught the dingy light. "Is it the one?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Chuck said, shutting the box. "It is."

"Good, it was wonderful doing business with you." The man extended his hand and Chuck took it coolly. "You too, thank you."

The man stood and as he turned to leave Chuck spotted something over his shoulder that he did not expect. Blair was sitting at a corner table, clearly watching him and when their eyes locked her brunette head ducked down in an amateur attempt to conceal herself. He smiled as he thought that for all her scheming, she was terrible at getting herself out of a bind. He got up from the bar and walked over to Blair's table.

"Well, this is unexpected," he drawled.

"Chuck," she said in feigned surprise, her hand floating to her chest. "I didn't know you were here."

"Nice try," he said, sitting opposite her. "You followed me?"

She didn't respond and he asked, "Why?"

"I read your text yesterday," she admitted.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"I couldn't help myself," she said, feeling silly saying it. "You know how curious I get."

He chuckled, "Yes, I do. Well, do you want me to explain or do you want to draw your own conclusions."

"Explain," she said immediately.

"That was Mike, one of my PIs. I had him look into the men who mugged me. They, uh, took something of mine that I wanted back."

Blair thought of what she had seen the man take out of his pocket and became even more interested. "What did they take?"

Chuck stood up and offered her his hand. She took it silently and let him pull her from the bar. Chuck took one look at the cab waiting in front and told her, "You can send Dorota home."

Blair grinned softly. "You really do know me well." She went to the cab and quickly told Dorota to just take the cab home. She pressed a fifty dollar bill into Dorota's palm and then joined Chuck in the limo. Her stomach dropped when she saw the jewelry box in his hand.

"What's that?" She asked carefully.

"It's what Mike recovered from Prague."

"And?"

Her heart nearly stopped when he opened up the box and she saw what looked like an engagement ring. Her fingers grasped at the material of her skirt as she nervously asked, "Why did you have that?"

"It was supposed to be yours," he said. "I was going to give it to you before Humphrey's knuckles connected with my jaw."

She winced at the memory. "You were going to propose?"

"Something like that," he answered. "It was supposed to represent my loyalty." He snorted somewhat unkindly. "Seems a bit ridiculous now."

She covered his hand with hers. "Don't go back there, Chuck."

"I really do love you," he said, his eyes locking with hers. "You know that, right?"

"I love you, too," she said, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. "What are you going to do with that ring now?"

"Probably sell it," he said. She did her best to hide her disappointment. "I can't give it to you now."

All she said was, "Oh, right."

"We can go and look for a ring together," he continued. "If you want to."

She turned to him and eagerly asked, "Really?"

He laughed, "Yes, really."

She threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the mouth. His arms wound around her waist and her mouth opened beneath his. The kiss deepened and she felt something stir. She pulled away and gently touched his cheek with her fingers. His skin was warm beneath her fingers and as he lifted his lips to hers again she pulled back further and shook her head.

"Blair-"

"Sshh," she said softly, her eyes not leaving his as she shifted her weight and pulled her leg over him. His hands settled on the small of her back as she straddled him and she leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers. She felt him harden beneath her and pressed her hips to his teasingly. He moaned beneath her mouth.

"Wait," he said hoarsely, turning away from her lips. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, kissing him hard. "I'm sure."

"I don't want to rush into anything," he said, finding it increasingly hard to rationalize while Blair's hand found the crotch of his pants.

"I want this," she said, giving him a quick squeeze. "I want you."

She unzipped his pants and drew him out. With the green light his hands worked deftly as they went up her skirt and pulled down her panties. The fever within him heightened at the feel of lace against his skin and then the milky smoothness of her thighs. Her arms wound around his neck as he reached down and guided himself in. She moved quickly and he pressed kisses onto her temple as he mumbled, "Slow, slow."

He could feel her all around him and he couldn't believe that months ago he had nearly lost her. In fact, he hadn't nearly lost her-he had. She had walked away and he was never so happy to have been shot because without that bullet she wouldn't be in the back of his limo. She wouldn't be breathing heavily into his ear, her tongue finding the inner rim of his ear. She would be off with someone who probably deserved her more and he would be alone with copious amounts of liquor. He was glad that were both where they were. They were where they belonged.

He felt her reach the end and then let himself finish. Fireworks seemed to erupt in his mind and she clung to him. "I love you," she whispered in his ear. "I love you, Chuck Bass."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I love you."

**A/N: Anyone wishing they had a backseat of a limo? And Chuck Bass? Having watched nearly half of season two over two days- I say YES. Clearly- I have no life. Feel free to mock in review-form. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Last Chapter! I just have to tell you all now how much fun I have had writing this and interacting with you through pms and such. It's clear you enjoyed this and I enjoyed writing it, as well. So..here's to hoping this ending chapter does the story justice :-D**

A Christening

It had been three months since the night in his limo and two months and three weeks since she had picked out her ring. It was less gaudy than he would have thought. While he knew Blair was not a new-money socialite needing to assert her standing with expenses he did know that she enjoyed a somewhat showy existence. He had thought that this ring would be the perfect opportunity to show off their reunion and how much he cared for her. Instead, she picked a simple ring with three stones nestled beside each other. Granted, she ensured that the metal was platinum and the diamonds flawless, but it still surprised him. In fact, as they lived together and his injuries became less and less of a hindrance she often proved to be different than he had remembered. It seemed her tastes had grown simpler since his accident. She favored time at the hotel over nights out. Several times she opted to escape to some small restaurant instead of attending a society function that had been anticipated for weeks.

"I just want to be with you," she explained. "And I don't need all that other stuff to do that."

He personally wanted to get back into society and show everyone just how well he was recovering. More than that, he wanted to walk with her on his arm and show the world that miracles of miracles she had returned and they were as strong as ever. She meant more to him than any society acknowledgement, though. He loved her almost to a fault, which meant he would do whatever she wanted, even if it meant staying in and watching movies or driving a half hour to only have a cup of hot chocolate. He saw that she found immense joy in little things and he fought with himself to find a similar joy. Usually he succeeded just by the fact that she was with him. He found that it didn't matter what little trip or adventure they were on as long as she was beside him. She was the driving force in his happiness and ultimately his life.

"I'm selling The Empire," he told her on afternoon.

"What?" She looked at him in alarm. "Why would you do that?"

"Too much has happened here," he told her. "There are too many bad memories and it's not right to make you live here among them."

"Chuck," she sighed, reaching for his hands. "I don't care about all of that. It happened, yes, but we moved past it. I have moved past it."

"I won't have to live where I have caused you so much pain," Chuck said resolutely. He was firm in his decision, but so was she. Her head shook from side to side as she argued, "This hotel was your dream, Chuck. I remember you taking me here and you were so proud. You worked for this, Chuck." Her eyes darkened. "You were willing to sacrifice everything for this and I won't let you throw it away."

"That's it, though, Blair. I was willing to sacrifice the one thing that means more than anything to me to have this place. I almost lost you Blair, and for what? Some bricks and wallpaper? It took me too long to realize this, and I'm sorry for that, but a hotel is not worth more than the people you care about."

"Where will we go?"

He shrugged. "We'll find some place. We can always rent something small while we're looking, maybe start a charming existence in Brooklyn,"

"Over my dead body," she deadpanned. He laughed and put an arm around her shoulder and gently kissed her head. "Blair, the bottom line is that I don't want to be here anymore. This hotel did mean a lot to me but now it's just an empty shell."

"Chuck-"

"And who needs dreams, anyway? I have you and you're better than a dream. You're real."

Blair grinned softly. "That I am."

"So, we'll start looking tomorrow," he said. "I already called a few colleagues of mine asking if they knew of anything open. I have a few places we can check out. I don't know if they're any good but we'll see."

Blair wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. "You're a good guy, Chuck. You know that, right?"

The words "good guy" and "Chuck" sounded foreign to his ears but Blair had said it so he took it to be true. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, "Whatever you say."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

The first place they looked was an absolute disaster. Blair found fault in everything she saw and Chuck had to admit he didn't find one thing he actually liked about the place. He had a feeling, though, that Blair's distaste was partially accredited to the real estate woman. It was one of his former conquests which he did not voice but Blair could tell by the stiffness of his body. As they left she remarked, "That woman is real estate poison."

He had a feeling she meant something different.

The second place fared better, partially because the real estate person was a man whose first trilled words of greeting underlined clearly what team he played for. Blair shook his hand enthusiastically and said, "What a beautiful apartment."

They walked around and while both of them agreed the place was nice neither felt the pull that one should feel in their home. They left after maybe thirty minutes and Chuck said, "It was nice, no?"

"It wasn't right," Blair said.

That night they returned to The Empire, four more apartments visited and discarded. They sat on the couch and she curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I don't like apartment shopping," she sighed.

He looked down at her with a smirk and remarked, "I thought you liked all types of shopping."

"Not apartment shopping, it's too much of a commitment." He looked at her pointedly and she said, "You know what I mean, Chuck. A dress if I don't like it a week down I can just return it. An apartment, though, it's different. I need to _feel_ that the place is perfect. But no place will be perfect."

"You don't know that."

"Perfect is unattainable," she argued. "I'll never find the perfect apartment."

"You will," he told her, rubbing her arm. "You'll step in and just know. It's like with people. You meet them and you just know that you will be spending the rest of your life with them."

She looked up at him and laughed. "Bol shit."

"Excuse me?" He said, laughing in surprise.

"I bet you didn't feel that way with me."

He shook his head solemnly. "You're wrong."

She sat up fully and looked him squarely in the eye. "You did not feel that way when you first met me."

"I did."

"We were eight," she argued.

"So?"

"Nothing happened between us until-"

"I loved you from the moment I saw you, Blair," he told her. "It's just that I had to get Nathaniel out of your system before I could do anything."

She didn't speak for a moment and he could tell that she didn't believe him. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "At least we can agree it wasn't love at first sight for you."

She giggled and said, "That's true, you take some warming up to." She snuggled against him again and slung an arm around his waist.

"I'd say you're warmed up now?" he teased.

She looked up at him with devious eyes and hitched her leg over his hips. Her lips a breath from his she murmured, "Definitely."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Blair walked into The Savoy and smiled when she spotted Serena sitting in the corner. Her friend waved gaily as she rose from her seat. Blair walked toward her and laughed loudly as her friend threw her arms around her. They sat down and Serena leaned forward conspiringly as she asked, "So, how does it feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! Chuck's first day back at Bass Enterprises. It's like sending your kid to school."

Blair laughed, "Well, that is one way to put it."

"How was he this morning?"

Blair remembered his tense features as they ate breakfast and said, "Nervous."

"He was gone for a long time," Serena reasoned.

"I'm sure he was fine," Blair said. "The company is his."

"You're right," Serena said, her eyes catching on Blair's left hand as she reached for her water goblet. Serena smiled softly and said, "I still can't believe he bought you that?"

Blair took a sip of water. "Why?"

"Chuck is just so different with you."

"We're good for each other," Blair said, smiling indulgently. "Do you know he's selling The Empire?"

Serena's eyes widened. "He is?"

"I tried to talk him out of it but he won't budge."

"Wow, so where are you guys moving?"

Blair shrugged. "I'm not sure. We've gone and looked at a few places but nothing seemed right."

"Wow, so moving in together? That's a bit step, B."

"We were already living together," Blair reminded her.

"Yeah, but you guys are looking for a place together! Blair, this is huge. It's all so official."

Blair laughed, "It was official a long time ago, S."

"Well, I'm just happy that you've been able to keep him on the straight and narrow. If anyone can it's you."

Blair grinned. "Don't argue with someone when they're right."

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Chuck left his first day back at work feeling that he hadn't quite asserted his power but things had not gone poorly. Everyone treaded softly around him, overly worried about his previous injury. He had been given a clean bill of health from his doctor and didn't wear a bandage anymore. Still, people tip-toed around him and treated him with velvet gloves. It would take some time to assert his power again at Bass Industries but he had no doubt he would do it.

He had opted to walk back to The Empire, needing some fresh air to clear his mind, and stopped suddenly when he found himself in front of a tall building with a sign offering apartments for lease. He had felt a jolt when he had passed it, a drop in his stomach. He walked in without much thinking and asked the woman at the front desk if he could see one of the rooms. She nodded her head and took him to an elevator. They rode up to the fortieth floor and when the doors opened he knew he was home.

He walked slowly, feeling the oddest sense of déjà vu. He had never seen the apartment before yet felt that he had stepped in it hundreds of time. He looked at each room and could easily picture Blair there. It was effortless, her reclining on the couch, her fixing them drinks in the kitchen. He pictured them in the bed, their limbs intertwined so closely that he couldn't tell his body from hers.

"How much is it?" he asked.

The quote was high but he found that he didn't care. He told her he would take it and pulled out his phone to text Blair. He told her to meet him at the address and went downstairs to meet her. Bright anticipation coursed through him as he waited, his wing-tipped shoes clicking against the floor.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

Her phone beeped as they collected the check and she flipped it open to a message from Chuck. It was peculiar, only an address and an order to meet him there. Serena looked at her and asked, "Who is it?"

"Chuck, he needs me to meet him somewhere. Do you mind if I leave?"

"Of course not, I'll see you later." Serena stood with Blair and kissed her cheek briefly before pushing her toward the door. As she left the restaurant she felt excitement boil in the pit of her stomach.

CHAIR-CHAIR-CHAIR

The moment he saw Blair cross the street he rushed out to her and took her hand. She smiled up at him and asked, "What's the rush?"

"Trust me," he said.

They passed the woman at the desk and Blair wondered idly why she smiled so strangely at her while they stepped into the elevator. Blair had seen the sign outside and watched Chuck hit the fortieth floor.

"Are we checking out an apartment?" she asked him.

He didn't answer and when the reached the fortieth floor and the door opened up he led her into the apartment and her breath caught as he said, "This is your new apartment."

"What?"

She looked around wildly as he said, "I came here literally twenty minutes ago and it's the place, Blair. I can get my deposit back if you don't like it, obviously, but I had to do it."

Blair didn't respond but began to walk around the apartment, slowly running her hand along the wall. She stepped into the kitchen and looked around, moving next into the living room and into the bedroom. The bedroom led to a balcony and she opened the door and stepped outside. The sun hit her face and warmed her all the way to her toes. She heard Chuck join her and she turned at the feel of his touch on her back. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him fully. His arms wound around her waist as she opened her mouth, tasting him on her tongue.

"So?" he asked, pulling away.

"You are an amazing man," she murmured. "Only you could find one apartment in this city and find the perfect one."

His eyes brightened. "So, you like it?"

She kissed him. "I love it. And I love you."

He dropped his arms from her waist and took her hand, leading her back into the bedroom. He led her to the bed and began to take of his suit jacket as she looked on with the grin he knew too well.

It was time to christen their new home.

**A/N: Last chance to leave feedback- PLEASE DO. I would love to hear all of your thoughts on this ending!**

**A LITTLE PLUG: Please read my new story "Royal Flush". Gangster Chuck. Haughty politician's daughter Blair. What's not to love?**


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